Carli

Carli pulled into the truck stop near the interstate, to gather herself and to formulate a plan. She parked in the gravel where the rigs idled, so that she’d be sure to see nobody that she knew. She turned off the car and pulled out her phone. She refreshed her email but still found nothing from Gail. She thought about calling Kelly or Madison or Andrea. She pulled up their Instagram feeds and scrolled through images of boyfriends and tattoos and selfies and beer bongs. She tried to find her way back to a picture that included her, but so many images, so many moments had stacked up since then. She couldn’t find herself, and her friends’ faces had taken on the sterile look of strangers. Her hands shook as she dialed Paige’s number. Paige answered on the first ring.

“Carli?”

Paige’s voice came familiar, warm, worried.

“Can I ask a favor?” Carli said.

“Anything.”

Carli swallowed, built the courage to ask, braced for rejection. “Can I stay with you for a little while? A few days. Maybe a week?”

Paige only hesitated for a split second. “Of course you can,” she said, and a wave of relief washed over Carli. “You can stay for as long as you need. What happened?”

“I told Marla about the final consent.”

A longer pause. “I see.”

Paige gave her the address, and after Carli hung up, she leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. The diesel engine next to her rumbled like her stomach. The hiss of airbrakes sighed. She had a place to stay that night, and she could stay at Paige’s for a week or two, but she couldn’t stay there forever. Her baby was gone, her in-box was empty, and her car was crammed with all her worldly possessions. She had a maxed-out credit card in her purse, three hundred bucks in the bank, and a half tank of gas. Even if Paige said she could stay longer, Carli knew that she wouldn’t, that she would land on somebody’s couch or in the back seat of her car.

Homeless. That word had always seemed so remote. A word that belonged to other people. Home. She had left home just thirty minutes ago, but that word already seemed less familiar than the first. She sat quietly and tried to concentrate on the rumble of the engine. After several minutes, her breathing finally slowed, and her stomach grew quiet. Carli opened her eyes and forced herself to focus. She was typing Paige’s home address into her phone to get directions, when it vibrated with a call. She didn’t recognize the number. For a moment she thought about letting it roll to voice mail, but it might be Gail, so she answered it.

“Ms. Brennan?”

A man’s voice. “Yes?” she said warily.

“This is Officer Bradford. From the FBI.”

Hope fluttered. “Did you find them?”

A pause. “Not exactly. But there have been developments.”

Developments. “What kind of developments?”

“A Minnesota state trooper came across a couple with a baby. We believe it may be the Durbins.”

Carli pressed the phone to her ear. “Where are they?”

“Unfortunately, he didn’t receive the APB until after his encounter.”

“Wait. So, they’re—are they gone?”

“We’re not sure where they are. The good news is that we were able to get a sketch of what they look like now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Haircuts. Hair dye. That sort of thing. Anyway, we’re focusing our efforts on Grand Forks based upon that notebook you shared with us. They told the state trooper that they were headed there, too. We’re still not sure why Grand Forks, but we’ve given the sketch to the police up there, and we’ve asked them to send it to all the hotels. To be honest, it’s still a long shot, but I thought you should know.”

Another long shot. “There’s something that you should know, too.”

“What’s that?”

Carli took a deep breath and let it out. “I signed it.” Telling Bradford made it real to Carli in a way that she hadn’t expected.

“Signed what?”

“The final consent.”

For a moment Bradford said nothing, and that tiny bit of silence felt like an accusation. “So that means—”

“—the baby belongs to them now.” Carli couldn’t let him say it. “I emailed it to Gail a few hours ago.”

More silence. “Well. That adds a wrinkle. To say the least. Why now?”

Why now? Because she could feel her baby slip farther north every moment. Because with every hour that passed it became less likely that she’d ever see Maya again. Because she didn’t have a choice.

“I want them to be able to come back,” Carli said. Tears spilled down her cheeks and her breath snagged. “So that I can see my baby again.”

“Have you heard from them?”

Carli swallowed the sob building in her throat. She gripped the phone tightly, worked to steady her voice. She managed to force the next words out in a rush. “I’m not sure she’s still checking that email account.”

Another long pause, and Carli squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, against the silence. “Well,” Bradford said quietly. “In that case, I guess we better keep after them.”